Life Swap
by MzHissyFits
Summary: James goes unconcious and Harry slips into a coma exactly 25 years apart. Somehow, something manages to put their minds in each others' bodies. Why? And will past Voldemort be able to kill Harry? Sort of Freaky Friday meets Back to the Future. JPLE GWHPOC
1. The Switch

**Life Swap**

_Chapter One  
The Switch _

Harry lowered his arm, panting. She was just there. Just lying there, on the ground . . . not moving. Did he really just do that?

There was silence aside from the distant struggles from above. Someone would be missing him soon . . . they'd come after him. And then what would they find? A murderer, that's what. Harry realized he was shaking. Had he really let his anger get this far?

Upon the sound of steps coming down the stairs, Harry approached Lestrange's body. Imagine his surprise when she sat up suddenly and aimed a curse at him. Imagine his surprise when the curse hit. Imagine his disbelief as his world turned dark and the yells of his friends reached his ears.

* * *

James was riding his broom over the pitch. The score was tied and he felt the pressure would soon kill him. Something had to happen, and it had to happen now. 

And it did. A bludger hit his head at 30 km an hour.

_Oh bugger_, he thought as his vision faded into darkness.

* * *


	2. Memory Loss?

**Life Swap**

* * *

Chapter Two  
_Memory Loss?_

* * *

Harry blinked his eyes open, groaned, and closed them again. He had the most monstrous headache. Opening his eyes once more, he found himself in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, which was strange because he had been expecting to wake up in St. Mungo's. 

A familiar voice said, "Well, Mr. Potter, you're awake."

"Er . . . " Harry said, moaning. "Barely."

He looked around for Madame Pomfrey, but instead found a middle-aged nurse tut tutting over a clipboard. Maybe he _was_ in St. Mungo's.

"Uh . . . where am I?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Come now," the nurse said, "The bludger didn't hit you that hard! Hard enough to keep you unconscious for a couple of days, albeit."

_And who is this?_ Harry thought. He didn't have much time to dwell though. The nurse continued talking.

"Now, I've decided against my better judgment to let you have visitors," she said. "Don't overdo yourself, Mr. Potter. Remember, you went through quite an ordeal."

Harry sat up, eager to see Ron and Hermione to ask them what the hell happened. He hoped that they had at least gotten Bellatrix Lestrange, and all those other Death Eaters locked up in Azkaban again. It wasn't a great feeling knowing there are escaped Death Eaters on the loose, and this was the second time he had to feel it.

The nurse walked over to the door and said, "You may come in now."

"Thanks, Madame Pomfrey," a small chorus of male voices answered.

"Anytime, gentlemen."

Harry, not registering that they had called the nurse Madame Pomfrey, craned for a look at who had come to visit him, and froze when he saw.

These were people he had only seen once in his life, and then they had only been in a memory. Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black.

"Hey James!" Lupin said. "Remember us? I suppose that bludger must have caused some brain damage when it hit you, so if you don't we'll understand." He was joking, but Harry didn't find it funny.

The three took seats on the right side of his bed. Harry edged slowly away.

"What's wrong, James?" Sirius asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Harry jumped backwards and fell off of the bed.

* * *

James opened his eyes, and found his vision was blurry. Looking around, he found a pair of glasses on a table next to him and he put them on, puzzled but too tired to think much about it. Putting his head back down on the pillow, he pondered why his reflexes were so slow (he didn't get hit that hard did he?). His vision improved enough to let him know that he wasn't lying down in his bed in the dormitory, nor was he in the hospital wing. Where was he? 

He looked around the dark room and was afraid to move. There was a sort of plump sobbing woman to his right, along with two girls that had tears running down their faces.

To his left, there was a young red headed boy with his head in his hands, and a balding red haired man with his eyes closed and a worried expression on his face. There was a shabby looking man pacing around the foot of James' bed, shaking uncontrollably. In the doorway he could see Professor Dumbledore. At least that was normal . . . except Dumbledore looked extremely haggard; a bunch more wrinkles had appeared and there was no longer any trace of red in his long beard. He, Dumbledore, was talking to someone who looked like a Healer, but unless Madame Pomfrey was a lot hairier than he remembered, it wasn't her.

James sat up slowly. The people in the room were much too preoccupied to notice.

Suddenly, he said, "Could somebody turn on a light? I'm beginning to feel really creeped out."

And quite immediately, James found all eyes on him. Jaws dropped, tears stopped abruptly, and the silence was so complete that you could hear crickets chirping from outside.

Then the mood changed just as suddenly. Everyone rushed upon him; the woman hugged him, as did the two girls. The guys thumped him on the back, the Healer looked shocked, but terribly pleased, and Professor Dumbledore had those twinkles back in his eyes. People poured into the room from the hallway, the plump woman hugged the balding man, the bushy haired girl hugged the red haired boy and when they realized what they were doing they let go quickly, and in the whole, there was just general cheerful chaos.

"Glad that you're all so happy," James said, lost for words. Dumbledore brought the lights out with a flick of his wand. "Could somebody tell me what's going on here?"

Dumbledore held his hand up for silence. The group, which had grown as people from the hallway poured in, quieted slowly.

"Forgive our behavior, my boy," the headmaster said, "But you must realize that Healer Eagleton had just informed us that there was a large possibility that you would never wake up . . . when you woke up."

"Really?" James said. "How ironic. Here's another question: where am I?"

"St. Mungo's," a bushy haired girl said to him.

"You had us all worried, mate," the red haired boy said.

James was confused. He didn't even know these people – apart from Dumbledore, of course. He decided not to say anything. ". . . Right. But why am I here?"

This question received blank looks and worried glances.

"Don't you remember?" the shabby man asked.

James paused. "Well, yeah, sort of. I was hit in the head with a bludger."

Again, blank looks and worried glances.

"No," a scary looking man with what looked like lazy eye growled. "I think you're confused, boy."

"You've never been hit with a bludger," the red haired boy said, thoughtfully. "Besides second year that is. But not in the head."

"Ron! This is hardly the time," the bushy haired girl said.

"Well, I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said. "But I'm sleep deprived! No, mate, you weren't hit with a bludger," he said. Turning to the girl, Hermione, he said, "Happy now?" Continuing to James, he said, "You nearly got killed. How can you not remember that?"

James blinked. Everyone in the room looked at him expectantly. _I'm surrounded by the mentally ill, _he thought.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Eyes shifted from James to the old man. "Maybe we should give him some time to recover," he said. "I'm sure he could use some time to clear his head."

Slowly and silently the people filed out of the room.

Dumbledore spoke to the Healer, "Give me a minute with him."

"But . . . sir," the Healer said, "If the boy is going through memory loss, don't you think - ?"

"Please, Edward," Dumbledore said.

Edward Eagleton swallowed. "All right. But I'll need to run some tests in about half an hour. Is that all right?"

"Perfectly all right," Dumbledore said. "I just want a minute."

The Healer walked out of the room leaving James alone with Dumbledore.

"I suppose you'd like an explanation . . . " Dumbledore began.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **This one goes out to and - thanks you guys, for reviewing! Do it again! haha 

So, what do you think? Not going as slow as some of my other ones, is it?


	3. Dumbledore's Account

Monica's Quote of the Day: "The road to hell is paved with good intentions. The _highway_ to hell is paved with bad ones." 

Other than that, and certain aspects of the storyline, and any characters you don't recognize, nothing belongs to me.

To my reviewers:

**Caitlin:** Haha, I know of the "crappily written things" of which you speak. Thank you for the compliments, and yes, I think in this chapter there's enough description, because this is where I planned to explain most everything.

**HandsOff**: It's funny how you mentioned time travel because part of this was based off of _Back To The Future_ (notice how he goes back to his dad's time). I'm a sucker for that type of trippy stuff too.

**Adcohen**: Thank you! Let's see how chapter three will be.

**Lai**: I'm surprised that you didn't get it – I did hope that I had made myself clear. You see, Madame Pomfrey _didn't_ have an Aussie accent, but since Harry didn't know that she saw him as James (who, if you'll remember, got hit in the head with a bludger), he assumed that she _wasn't_ talking about a Quidditch ball but instead _using Australian slang_ (the term "bludger" means something along the lines of a bumbling idiot, I think).

The way I figure it is that Harry's parents were about 25 when he was born, and if they were 25 years older than him and Madame Pomfrey is relatively old, she would have been a Hogwarts nurse even in the Marauders' days.

I hope that cleared up any uncertainty in regards to Madame Pomfrey.

**Miss Lyss**: Don't feel too bad for James: he's clever, he'll figure stuff out.

**Starlit jewel**: I'm glad you like it. I've had this chapter done for a while, but I haven't had the oppurtunity to upload it. Here it is everyone!

WELL HERE'S THE MOMENT WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR … CHAPTER THREE EVERYBODY! (please remain seated throughout the show, thank you)

**Life Swap**

* * *

Chapter Three  
_Dumbledore's Account_

* * *

"Whoa, mate!" Siruis was saying. "You need help?" 

The three marauders were getting up out of their chairs to help Harry but Harry stood up quickly and got back into bed.

"No, nope, no, no," Harry said quickly. "I just need to get back into bed, make sure I'm asleep, and then wake up from whatever sick delusion this is," Harry ranted desperately. "He better not have gotten to my head again," he muttered. "But if he has, he's being especially cruel and deserves to be kicked in the groin."

"Excuse me?" Lupin said.

"I don't need to answer to you, Mr. Figment-of-my-bloody-imagination!" Harry said hysterically.

"Somebody took one too many gulps of their potion," Sirius said.

"James, what's wrong with you?" Pettigrew asked.

"Don't you speak to me!" Harry said, cringing at the realization Wormtail was looking at him as if he actually cared. "What you _can_ do is go away as soon as possible and let me have some peace."

The door to the ward opened and Dumbledore walked in. "Ah, I figured that you three would make it here before me," he said.

"Professor," Sirius said. "I think James here is wrong in the head."

"Mr. Black," Dumbledore said, "I thought you were clever enough to deduce that fact. After all, he was hit in the head with a bludger."

"It's not that, Professor," Lupin said, eyeing Harry with that familiar worried look. "Something is seriously wrong."

"Yeah, I'll say," Harry said. "They seem to keep getting my name wrong . . . among other things."

"What?" Sirius said. "Don't tell me you're not James Potter!" Pretending to be wrought with grief he said, "Oh no! Who are you and what have you done with our best friend?" Dropping the act, he continued, "Seriously, mate, what's wrong?"

Harry paused and pinched himself discreetly under the sheets. It hurt. He looked at all of them and asked, "What day is it?"

"Monday," Peter answered.

Harry winced slightly at being addressed so informally by Pettigrew. Turning to Lupin he asked, "What date?"

"Er . . . February 22," Lupin answered.

"Year?"

"Are you serious?" Sirius asked. "Do you want to know the exact time down to the millisecond too?"

Harry blinked. "Er, no thanks. Look, guys, sorry about . . . yeah. I've just got the most monstrous headache. I'll be okay in no time. I appreciate your visit, but I think you'll have to cut it short. I don't feel so good."

"It shows," Lupin said.

Harry grinned, shakily. "Yeah, I suppose."

The three got up and left, saying their goodbyes as they went through the door.

Harry heard Lupin say, "What's up with him?"

Sirius answered, "I was about to ask you the same question … "

As the sound of their voices faded away, Harry marveled at how young all of them looked. Jerking himself out of his reverie, Harry noticed Dumbledore was still in the room.

"Well, James," he said, "I should probably talk to Madame Pomfrey about how soon we can have you back in class." He started to walk away when Harry called out to him urgently.

"Wait! Professor!"

Dumbledore turned around.

"I need to talk to you," Harry said.

* * *

"Professor?" James said. "Something odd is going on here." 

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "But before we get to that, will you excuse me for one moment." He waved his wand at the door and turned back to James.

James raised an eyebrow.

"I put a charm on the door so that the young Weasleys can't use their Extendable Ears to eavesdrop," Dumbledore said.

"Extendable Ears?"

"Their own invention. The twins own their own business, which is something Harry would know, as he was their first main investor."

James gulped. "But I'm not this . . . Harry kid. I'm James Potter, and I'm confused."

Dumbledore sat down heavily in an abandoned chair.

_He's taking this rather well_, James thought.

"I know," Dumbledore said.

There was a brief pause during which they stared at each other.

"You lost me, Professor," James said.

Dumbledore looked at James a long moment before saying, "Today is February 22nd – "

"Yeah," James interrupted. "Guess I've been unconscious for a couple of days . . . "

Dumbledore continued, "And twenty-five years into your future."

James felt his jaw drop.

"Twenty-five years ago," Dumbledore was saying, "You came to me with a problem. You woke up in the hospital wing a couple days after an accident on the Quidditch field – I seem to remember that you were hit in the head with a bludger."

"That's the last thing I remember," James said, nodding.

Dumbledore nodded. "The strange thing was, you didn't seem to believe that you were James Potter. You told me your name was Harry Potter and that you didn't understand why Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew were so young. You didn't understand where you were, or what had happened to you, and that the last thing you remembered was being cursed into oblivion by a Death Eater."

James stared.

"It didn't take long for this mind, in your body," Dumbledore said, "to convince me that he was actually James Potter's _son_, Harry. A bit of time after that, the two of us discovered that your minds had switched. You see, both of you fell unconscious at the exact time and age. . . twenty-five years apart. The power of the curse that was set upon Harry, who _is_ your future son, James, combined with his unique . . . characteristics, was able to send his mind and spirit twenty-five years into the past into a vessel that was strongly connected to him . . . his father. He, in turn, displaced his _your_ mind, which had no place else to go but into his body.

"Now, I'm to believe that you both have _woken_ at the same time, twenty-five years apart: two days after whatever caused your unconsciousness.

"I must confess to you, though, James," Dumbledore said, "If not for this incredible switch, I think Harry would be dead. Harry was not meant to die this way, so his destiny found a way for him to live."

James blinked: he didn't quite get it, but he sensed there was something Dumbledore wasn't telling him. "Okay. So I saved my . . . future son's life. Can I go home now?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "You have some task yet to do," he said. "As does Harry. Eventually, you'll return. I remember that much. Although I'm worried about Harry's welfare . . . he could yet be in danger."

"How?"

"There is a period of time where Harry's spirit separates from your body, but lingers in the past," Dumbledore said. "There are certain conditions on Harry's mortality. There is only one way he can die."

James paused. "Is it safe for you to tell me that?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "When I told you of the Prophecy, about a year after Harry was born, you seemed to already know this part of it. I suppose it is now when you find out . . . Harry can only be killed at the hand of Voldemort."

James shivered slightly. He hadn't yet learned to immunize himself against the thought of the most powerful dark wizard on the face of the planet. "Are you serious?" he asked, trembling. "My . . . future son has to die at the will of . . . him?"

Dumbledore thought, then said, "He doesn't _have_ to die. That's the only way he _can_ die – at least until Voldemort is defeated completely."

"He hasn't been defeated yet?" James asked.

"He disappeared for a over a decade," Dumbledore said, "But he was never really gone. I can't really risk telling you any more than that. That's too dangerous, considering you'll be sent back to the past with any information you receive of the future. I will tell you this: if Harry dies by the hand of Voldemort in the _past_, it counts. Harry needs to survive and get himself back to the future, or all is lost."

The words hung in the air.

"Does he get back? I mean, you've lived these past twenty-five years, you must know what happens," James said.

Dumbledore shook his head. "That, I could not tell you. You finished whatever task you had to accomplish for Harry's time, and you came back, detaching Harry's spirit from your body. The thing was, that the curse placed upon him was so powerful, that it would kill him if he went back into his body, so his spirit, in a sort of . . . half-body, hung around. He stuck it out with you for a while, then he disappeared. Neither you nor I heard from him again until he was born, which doesn't say much because he was sixteen when he could have died in the past."

Silence. Then James said, "Same age as me ... I hope he doesn't have to die so young."

Dumbledore nodded. "Now here are some things about Harry's life you may need to know … "


	4. Living in the Past

**Life Swap **

_

* * *

Chapter Four  
Living in the Past_

* * *

"So you're telling me that you're not James Potter?" Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded.

"That you are really his son, Harry Potter, from the future?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded again.

"And that you were sent to the past and, it seems, into your father's body?" Dumbledore continued.

"Yes, Professor," Harry said. "I know it's hard to believe, but you've got to trust me – if I can't turn to you, I've got nowhere else to go."

Staring at Harry, Dumbledore said, "If it makes you feel any better, I believe you."

"Thanks, Professor."

"The question is," Dumbledore continued, "what can we do about it?"

"One thing's for sure - " Harry began.

"I can't know anything about the future," Dumbledore said.

"That makes things a lot harder," Harry said.

"It probably does," Dumbledore said.

"But you already know that I'm James' son," Harry said.

Dumbledore smiled. "I won't tell if you don't. Besides, even if I did, it wouldn't change much: he would probably just insist that you be named Harry."

Harry grinned.

"First thing's first," Dumbledore said.

"Yes?"

"You said that the last thing you remember is that a strong spell was cast upon you, right?"

Harry nodded.

"That was most likely what got you here," Dumbledore said, "because it certainly wasn't this end of time."

"Why?"

"Well, it had to have been something powerful enough to dispel your spirit or mind from your body and get it all the way back to a quarter of the century in the past. James only got hit in the head with a Bludger."

"It's amazing that you don't think I'm crazy."

Dumbledore smiled. "Do you remember what the spell was? Did the person (don't tell me who it was, lest I be tempted to change it in the future) who cast the curse mean for this to happen?"

"No," Harry said. "But I recognized it . . . if the curse didn't kill you, it separated your mind and body temporarily. If you were lucky enough to survive, 'lucky' – puh," Harry spat in contempt, "if you were lucky enough, you went completely insane for about half an hour then fell into a coma. Depending on how strong the curse is, it can do anything from kill you to putting you out of action for about two hours. It's a recent creation from the demented mind of Voldemort himself. He was trying to find a way of controlling minds that couldn't be fought like the Imperius Curse could, but he got that instead."

"I guess there's nothing I can do to stop it if it's already done," Dumbledore said.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "You find a way that helps counteract it. It worked for . . . well, I won't name names, but you know how I said there were people who survived? Yeah, that's thanks to you. The spell takes a little while to start, which gives you about five full seconds to use the way to counteract it, and if you do it right, you should be fine the next day – but it takes a bit of discipline, like producing a Patronus or doing Occlumency – same thing to _cast_ the spell too, which is why sometimes it doesn't kill you, even if you don't use the countermeasures."

"And what about you?"

Harry froze for a moment, before looked down and sighed. "I didn't . . . I mean, I thought she was . . . I was caught by surprise, is all. I . . . and I wasn't . . . I was shaken and I let my guard down. I don't . . . and I probably shouldn't . . . talk about it . . . "

"So long as you don't name any names," Dumbledore said, "I'm sure that you can get at least some of the burden off your shoulders."

Harry took a deep breath. "I was so angry . . . I mean, of all the people who . . . well, to make the story short, this particular . . . _witch_ was responsible for one of the greatest losses in my life, and . . . I guess . . . I felt I needed revenge. Just as I thought . . . things were never going _great_, but at least I had . . . I'm not making sense, am I?"

Dumbledore just waved a hand dismissively. "Go on."

Harry gulped, and realized he was shaking. "I thought I killed her," Harry whispered.

Dumbledore blinked at him.

"She killed him. She wasn't even sorry. I wanted to _make_ her sorry. I wanted her to pay for what she'd done to him – what she'd done to me. And in the process, I sunk to their level. I became just as bad as the Death Eaters. When I realized this, I thought it was too late. I thought that I'd _killed _someone. It didn't really matter who she was in that moment. Half of me was scared that she was actually dead. Half of me wished that I had never done it. That half of me wished she were still alive. The other half of me, the part that really scares me most of the time, was glad that it was over."

Harry stopped, looking at Dumbledore, who simply looked sadly understanding for Harry.

"Anyway, I couldn't just leave it at that. I had to know. I needed to find out whether or not she was dead or not, whether or not I was a murderer. So I checked. And that was when she got me."

Silence. Then Harry said, "Did I say too much?"

"No, you left it nice and ambiguous," Dumbledore said.

Dumbledore frowned at him. Harry felt the strange sensation that comes with someone performing Legimens on your mind. Instinctively, Harry began performing Occlumency and then hesitated.

"Professor?"

"You haven't had a happy life, have you?"

Harry said, "Are you looking through my memories?"

"No," Dumbledore said, patiently. "I'm just getting the feel of who Harry Potter is. You just told me you almost killed someone, so I felt it was prudent to check to see that you would only do that with good reason – the general feel of who you are. You know, you're very much like your father."

"Not exactly sure that's a compliment, Professor," Harry said. "He's a bit of a bully at the moment, isn't he? Likes to curse people just for the heck of it."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said. "How do you know?"

"I stumbled into Snape's memories once," Harry said. "That's how I recognized Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew."

"Hm," Dumbledore said.

Harry felt that Dumbledore had stopped probing his mind.

"Brave and intelligent, like your father," Dumbledore said. "You seem to have the need to prove yourself all the time, and from the feelings of accomplishment I sensed, you _have_ proven yourself. But there has been some recent pain and sadness . . . and anger – part of which does not seem to be your own. That puzzles me, but I won't inquire. I cannot see you as a murderer, Harry."

Harry sighed with relief. Hastily he said, "But I did kill a Basilisk once. Well, I mean, it was trying to eat me, so what was I supposed to do?" Harry stopped, then continued more seriously, "Even then, though, I wasn't as angry as when I attacked . . . that witch. In fact, I've never been that angry – not even with Mal . . . well, my main rival at school, and he bloody pisses me off. In a way, I'm afraid of becoming someone like him – or maybe his father. Capable of doing such _horrible_ things." Harry blinked. "I don't _ever_ want to have to do that.

Dumbledore nodded. "Hopefully, you never will."

Harry sighed internally, knowing that one day he'd have to.

"When did this attack take place?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry blinked. "Why?"

"It may be useful to know in the future whether or not your mind will spontaneously go back in time," Dumbledore said. "Maybe I'll be around to explain the situation to people."

"I think it was the 20th of February, when I got cursed," Harry said.

"Curious," Dumbledore noted.

_I'm beginning to hate that word_, Harry thought. "What is?"

"Two days ago, on the 20th, was when your father blacked out."

"Well," Dumbledore continued, "I'm debating whether or not to let you back to class now. We don't know for how long you'll be with us, so it may not be worth your while to pretend to be your father during the time you're here. Plus, you might slip up and say something about the future."

Quickly, Harry said, "No, Professor! I mean, I kind of would like to stick around – see stuff about my dad. I mean, while he's my age." Harry added this last part quickly – he didn't want to seem like he hadn't known his father at all during his life. "Plus, I don't think my dad would stay in the hospital after a little thing like this."

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, then, you may need to know some details about his life so that you may pass for him."

"Anything you can tell me will be great," Harry said.

**Author's Note**: So how was it? Please review!


	5. New Friends

**_Author's Note:_** I didn't incorporate any of the sixth book, although this does take place during Harry's sixth year. However, it takes place in February, so nothing happened yet, thank God. There's only one character in Harry's time that belongs to me, and I just put her here because I cut her story. Now she's on the spin-off.

_Sunday, July 31, 2005_  
Hey look – I'm updating on Harry Potter's birthday! How fitting. Anyway, I'd just like to thank …

**Adcohen:** thank you for the compliments  
**Spikesdreamer:** well, here's what happens next (the real stuff should be happening soon though – all this was just intro stuff)  
**Foodisgood:** Food _is_ good, lol and thank you for taking the time out of your schedule to review. I appreciate it a lot!  
**Princessdza:** Thanks for reviewing!  
**Raichuu:** longer chapters? Lol that's a lot to ask! Well that last one was only five pages, so I guess so … lol and the first one was what? Two sentences? Haha so okay – this one's a little longer so enjoy!  
**SBR:** well, if you were looking for James, there's more about him than Harry in this chapter so yeah. This _should_ be the final of the intro chapters: the plot stuff should come along soon.

**_Another note:_** I leave for France August 3rd, this upcoming Wednesday. I'm probably not going to update before then and I won't be around to update next weekend, and I probably won't have time to do enough editing before the weekend after that comes around … but I'll try.

So here's Chapter Five of _Life Swap_ everyone! Hope you like it – and don't forget to review if you do … or don't haha. Enjoy!

The lights dim, the titles appear, and what's that? Cheering? Just kidding – keep scrolling it's there!

* * *

**Life Swap**

* * *

_Chapter Five  
New Friends_

* * *

James couldn't believe it. He was dead. Harry didn't have a father. Harry didn't have a mother either. Harry didn't even have a Godfather anymore, because Sirius died too. Thank goodness Moony was still around, because Dumbledore said that Peter disappeared. Poor Peter. It must have been horrible because Dumbledore didn't even want to talk about how it happened. 

He was now lying down in the hospital bed, contemplating Harry's life.

Yeah, sure, his kid was awesome. There was no doubt about that. But his life was just so … messed up. The thought of it made one thoroughly depressed.

There were some good things, though. Apparently, Harry could give him a run for his money on the Quidditch field (Harry was captain as well) – and he did own the fastest broom in the world. He still had the Invisibility Cloak. James wondered whether or not Harry had the Marauders' map.

Sighing, James said, "All right. Anything else I need to know? Does he have a girlfriend?"

"No," Dumbledore said. "As far as my knowledge goes, he escorted a Ms. Cho Chang last year. He spends a bit of time with a Ms. Liz Cain but I'm sure it's not anything you should be worried about."

"Oh, okay," James responded. Inwardly, he was glad. He didn't want to be snogging his son's significant other. James grimaced, realizing how fortunate it was that Lily Evans still hated him: that would certainly make Harry uncomfortable as well.

What if Harry met his mother? _My future wife_, James thought. He turned the thought over in his head. _I wonder who my future wife is_ he thought.

"When we put you in Harry's place," Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eyes, "Please try to behave."

"And I don't normally?"

"No, James," Dumbledore said. "And we both know it. You have to be especially careful – Harry's training to be an Auror."

"Really?" James said, bright eyed.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Please don't gum it up, James."

"Why would I do that?" James said indignantly, ignoring the fact that Dumbledore had just used the phrase "don't gum it up."

"Severus Snape is one of Harry's teachers."

"What!"

"Please James, control yourself."

"I have to be nice to … "

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I see there's no curing your feelings of animosity towards him."

"Afraid not, Professor."

"Pity. Thanks to your enmity, Harry suffers much in his teacher-student relationship with _Professor _Snape, James. And don't forget that he _is_ Harry's teacher."

"Blimey, does he really give Harry such a hard time because of me?"

"Nothing he can't handle. Just be sure that _you_ can handle it."

"Yes, Professor."

They spent another hour going over the names and faces of people Harry knew. James, being a quick learner, got everything almost immediately.

"Now what?" James asked Dumbledore.

"We get you, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny back to school," Dumbledore said.

* * *

As Harry walked out of the Hospital wing, his head swam with names of people whose faces he had not seen, and etiquette non-rules of James Potter (cursing people like Severus Snape and some guy named Steve Weiss openly in the halls). Dumbledore had told him a lot and could tell that Harry had a hard time taking it in, but the professor was confident that Harry would learn quick enough to keep up the pretense of being James. Plus, he could always follow what Sirius was doing – even though James was generally the leader.

"The overall rule?" Dumbledore had said. "Keep a certain courtesy towards the typical school rules, but disregard them whenever they seem pointless. Pay attention in class without seeming to do so, and only mock the teachers outside of class. And don't do anything too terribly rash – wouldn't want to get your father in trouble, do you?"

Harry reached the Gryffindor porthole. Taking a second to mess up his untidy hair (another Potter etiquette non-rule) Harry entered the common room.

Harry looked around the room, which looked exactly the same as it had the last time he saw it. _Some things never change_, Harry thought.

Uncertain of what to do, Harry took a deep breath, grinned widely, and called out, "Hey! Guess who's back!"

Immediately, he was accosted by what seemed to be the Quidditch Team, because they kept calling him "captain." By Dumbledore's descriptions of these people, he had basically put the names with the faces. It was progress.

After the crowd had dispersed, two boys and a girl who looked about his age approached Harry. One of them had a familiarly round face …

"Heya Harry!" said one of the boys.

"Hey … you," Harry said.

The boy tackled him in a bone-crushing hug.

"Really Frank!" the girl said. "You'll give him another concussion!"

"It's not that terrible Alice," Frank said. "Just a fond greeting between friends."

"I wasn't aware it was customary to break your friends' bones," the other boy said.

"Stuff it Gideon," Frank said smiling. "Don't tell me you're not happy to see our Seeker? Just in time to help us win in the match against Hufflepuff, too."

_Frank, Alice, and Gideon_, Harry thought frantically. _I know this_ … _Frank and Alice Longbottom and Gideon Prewett, members of the original Order of the Phoenix. Obviously friends with my father. Shared the same fate as well_, he added bitterly.

He smiled at them, gave them a hurried excuse, and rushed off to find Lupin – _Remus_, Harry corrected himself – Sirius, and Pettigrew. Maybe he would just go by their nicknames – it could be easier.

Harry found them in the dormitory, huddled over the Marauder's Map.

"Hey James!" Sirius said with restrained glee. Obviously, they were planning the next full moon. "Come in! Quick, and shut the door behind you."

Harry joined them and sat on the bed next to Sirius. The three of them had put the bedside table in between two of the four-poster beds so it was centrally located for all of them to look at. It seemed that they were just adding what seemed to be a shortcut from the 4th floor corridor to the grounds beneath the statue of _Theodore, the Thickheaded_.

"What do you think we should do with this information, James?" Sirius said when they had finished. "I doubt we'll need it once we're out of this place."

"We could sell it," Wormtail said.

"Sell this?" Remus said, questioningly. "And what price would we put on it? This stuff is priceless."

"Yeah," Harry said. "It could turn out that this map could be worth more than all our lives put together. We couldn't take money for this." He said it jokingly, and the others laughed, but they had no idea how serious he was.

"I know!" Sirius said. "We'll leave it behind, for future generations to find."

"And even if it's confiscated," Harry said, "there'd be no way to prove what it really is, right?"

"Yup," Remus said. "After all, it _was_ your idea to make it password protected."

"I wish there was a way it could insult _everyone_ who didn't know the phrase," Sirius said regretfully. "But then, how would it know what to say?"

The door opened slowly and they turned to see who it was. Harry reached out and cleared the map casually. There was a fourth year standing in the doorway.

"Oh," the kid said, rather fearfully. "I was … just looking for my brother."

"He's downstairs, Fabian," Sirius said. "Now go away, we're copying homework."

"Oh okay," Fabian said. "Sorry to bother." The door shut.

Harry marveled at just how powerful his father and his friends were. Now he could see how James became so bigheaded. Hopefully, he would start growing out of it soon.

* * *

"Wearing your hair differently, Harry?" Hermione said, as James mussed his hair. He did it instinctively now – he couldn't tell whether he was doing it or not. 

"Oh," James said, "Well, I mean, I can never get it tidy, so in for a penny, in for a pound."

"Okay then," Hermione said, giving James a look that said _"strange, but okay._"

James shoved some pumpkin juice down his throat so she wouldn't ask him any more questions. The morning had not gone smoothly so far. James had woken up in the dormitory and couldn't find anything that he needed in Harry's trunk. It took him a while until he was fully dressed and then he had to wait and pick up whatever books that Ron picked up. Then there was a hullabaloo on the way to breakfast with a bunch of people asking James what had happened at the Ministry a few days ago. It was fortunate that Ron expected James to ignore them all because James had no idea what any of them were talking about. James stared around the Great Hall to get his mind off of things. He realized that many of the students were staring at him and he shifted uncomfortably. Could they tell he wasn't Harry?

"Why is everyone looking at me?" James asked in an undertone.

"What did you expect?" Ron said, turning his head right and left.

"I mean, come on, Harry," Hermione said, frowning. "After what happened, you'd expect people to be curious. And they stare all the time anyway, don't they?" She said it like it was something of an upside. James didn't get it.

The morning post arrived before James could think of a reply. A snowy white owl – Hedwig, he reminded himself – dropped a Daily Prophet in front of him. She landed in front of him and gazed shrewdly at James. He had been about to bite into his toast when he saw that the bird hadn't left yet. She continued to stare.

James sighed. She could probably tell he wasn't Harry. He might as well make peace, though. Hedwig _was_ Harry's owl, and trusted pet. James handed over his toast. Hedwig looked at it disdainfully for a moment and then took it. Still suspicious, she had seemed to accept James, even if she didn't like him much. She flew away.

James left his paper unopened and went back to his pumpkin juice.

"Well if you're not going to be using this," Ron said, with a slightly surprised look on his face, "I'll read it." He took the paper from beside James spoon.

"Sure," James said. He didn't understand why it should matter to Harry anyway. He was a sixteen year old for goodness' sake! Normal sixteen year olds didn't care about current events. Maybe Harry was a nerd. Oh the shame!

"Look Harry," Hermione said. "Umbridge has finally been convicted of Misuse of Government Facilities by setting those Dementors on you last year. She now faces 5 years in prison or a fine of 700 galleons. Serves her right, too. She nearly killed you, and then where would we all be?"

James had no clue what she was talking about, but nodded in agreement and went to his eggs.

"Oh well would you look at this!" Ron said. "There's a whole article devoted to Lupin and how he apprehended that escaped Death Eater – Travers."

"You'd think they wouldn't glorify a werewolf," Hermione said. "But they did. Isn't that wonderful?"

James leaned over and looked at the article over Ron's shoulder. There was Lupin, looking slightly breathless, under the weather, and incredibly modest. Not to mention incredibly old, but that didn't matter to James. He was glad to see a familiar face.

"Look, it's written by Gloria Gill," Hermione said. "Isn't that Charlie's fiancé?"

Ron nodded. "Yes. Very Weasley worthy – especially for Charlie. Should've been there when he told Mum. She cried a waterfall and left a lake on the kitchen table. Charlie came out with his cheeks pinched beet red … "

"Here's another article about you being the Chosen One, Harry," Hermione said. "I wonder how they found out … "

"It's kind of dangerous, isn't it?" Ron said. "If You-Know-Who believes the papers … "

"Then Voldemort," Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron shuddered (she didn't notice how James froze for a moment at the sound of Voldemort's name), "knows that Harry's the only one who can defeat him."

Ron shrugged, tossing the paper back to James. "Nothing we can do about it, I guess."

As Harry's friends went back to their breakfast, James was questioning exactly how much more of Harry's life he could take.

**_Author's Note:_** Well, how was it? Review please!


	6. In the Headmaster's Office

_Author's Note_: Heard something about not being allowed to answer reviews in chapters so I guess I won't be doing that today. I promised plot, yes? Well I hope I delivered! Oh and sorry the update took so long. Busy busy busy ...

* * *

**Life Swap**

_Chapter Six  
In the Headmaster's Office_

* * *

"Are you okay, James?" Sirius asked Harry, who had just stumbled out of the Great Hall thoroughly disoriented.

Harry had gone around all throughout breakfast trying to match names to descriptions to faces and judging by everyone's reactions, he wasn't doing too well at it.

"I'm okay," Harry said. "Just … just a bit of a headache is all."

"Still?" Lupin asked, the familiar frown furrowing his forehead. "Maybe you should go back to the hospital wing, James … "

"Look," Harry said, with an indignant tone that he figured James would have, "I'm fine. Stop worrying about me, I'm all right. It'll take more than a Bludger to shake James Potter." _I wish_, Harry added in his thoughts.

Lupin shrugged as if to say, _I give up, do what you like_ and Harry nodded in thanks.

"Brace yourselves, boys," Sirius said. "We've got Slughorn next."

Wormtail groaned. "I hate that guy! Talk about playing favorites … I mean, it's not like Evans has _any_ connections, she's not even pure-blood, but she still - "

"Hey," Remus interrupted sharply. "Careful what you say, Peter." Peter looked at him fearfully, just realizing what he said.

Harry glared at Peter, and there was a moment of awkward silence before Sirius chuckled uncomfortably and put his arm around Peter's shoulders, "You forget that James here's got a little soft spot in his heart for Ms. Evans," he said. "Don't you, James?"

Harry didn't say anything. What could he say? The girl, woman, whatever, was his _mother_. Gross. All he did was turn red. Fortunately for him, this was an expected reaction.

Still, as he entered the classroom last, behind Pettigrew, Harry had to fight the urge to punch something – particularly the back of Wormtail's head. Had the slimeball not just implied that Harry's mother wasn't worthy of recognition from a teacher?

Slightly steaming, Harry took his place in a desk beside Sirius and in front of Lupin, near the back of the classroom. Peering around the head of a girl with shockingly curly black hair, Harry saw a girl with vibrant red hair sitting in the very front row with her books, parchments, quill, and ink out and all ready to go. Harry grinned to himself as he was reminded of Hermione. Sighing, he wondered when he would see Hermione again, as well as Ron and his own brilliantly red hair.

Slughorn lectured for a few moments then set them off to brew their potions. Harry paired up with Lupin and Sirius partnered with Pettigrew, because quite frankly, Pettigrew needed help.

Harry was so out of it as he worked with young Lupin on the potion that once again, Lupin's forehead furrowed with worry and told Harry to leave the brewing up to him today. Harry was not sorry, and he was, in fact, grateful that Lupin did not bring this up with Sirius and Wormtail during break.

Harry spent the rest of the day trying to regain his balance in a world that seemed to spin on a whole different axis than his. He didn't know any of James' friends or teachers, nor did he have all of James' skill in spell casting. Harry walked the halls, not talking much, dwelling on the fact that he'd have to perform much better to keep up with James Potter's reputation.

Harry skipped lunch to go to the library and read up on Gypsy ginger root, which he knew nothing about but what they were going to cover in Herbology that day. On his way there, Harry bumped into none other than the red haired, green-eyed Lily Evans.

"Potter!" she cried out in dismay as the contents of her bag scattered across the corridor.

"Sorry!" Harry apologized at once, kneeling down to help gather Lily's belongings.

"Ugh," she said in disgust. She waved her wand at the mess and which neatly regained composure and flew into her bag.

Harry raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I was under the impression that magic was forbidden outside of class."

"And?" Lily said, closing her bag.

"And you're a prefect," Harry said, his grin getting a bit wider. Perhaps his father wasn't the only person from whom Harry inherited his "disregard for rules."

"Oh shove it, Potter," Lily said indignantly. "You're one to talk! Honestly, I don't understand why so many people think you're so special."

Harry laughed – when was the last time anyone had said that to him? Other than Malfoy of course, but pricks didn't count.

"What's so funny?" the impatient girl said.

"Oh, nothing," Harry said. "I was just thinking that more people should chew gum."

"Excuse me?" Lily asked, confused.

"Because," Harry continued, smiling, "if James Potter saw what happened to over-inflated bubbles more often, he might not want to inflate his own any more."

Lily stared at him, and then her eyes narrowed. "Okay," she said, "who are you and what have you done to Potter?"

Harry just smiled and turned in the direction of the library.

* * *

James burst out into the entrance hall. He'd had just about enough of what he could take of talk of Death Eaters and … and … V … Volde … _Voldemort_. He'd have to get used to saying that name. Apparently, Harry did it regularly.

He'd had just about as much Death Eater and Defense Against the Dark Arts conversation to last him the rest of his life – assuming he still had one. Giving some stupid excuse to Ron and Hermione, he left the Great Hall to think.

Wondering what he should do in the spare fifteen minutes he had given himself, he decided he might as well prepare for lessons and headed up towards the dormitories. He had about ten more minutes of respite before he had to become Harry again.

Ron entered the dormitory to find James lying facedown on his four-poster bed looking distinctly miserable. James heard him come in and groaned into the pillow. Ron took this as a muffled sort of greeting.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said, "we've got Slughorn in five minutes. I know _you're_ in his little club, but I can't afford to be late."

"What?" James asked indignantly. "_I'm_ in the _Slug Club_? Well not if I can help it!"

"Hell," Ron said, "You know Slughorn won't drop you – you're Harry Potter; he's not about to give up on you."

James grunted and picked up his bag. His son was in the Slug Club, among all the little brownnosers who thought they were just _so_ clever. All of them were so full of themselves that James could hardly stand it.

But then again, Lily Evans was in the Slug Club … but that was different. She _was_ actually that clever.

James and Ron stepped into the classroom just as the bell rang and took their seats on either side of Hermione. Today they were just taking notes, not brewing so James prepared himself for two hours of boredom. At the moment, James didn't quite care about note taking and was quite content on slouching in his seat and doodling.

James only realized that he was drawing a snitch with an L in it and was about to add another heart with a J when he saw Hermione looking at his parchment. Thank god he hadn't written the J yet. He quickly crossed the heart out and began taking notes and Hermione smiled smugly and returned to her own notes.

James watched himself more carefully in Charms and received compliments from Professor Flitwick on his, Harry's, improvement. James could only deduce that Harry was an E student in charms instead of an O student – but that didn't mean much.

And then lunch. James spent most of the time wishing that Ron and Hermione didn't discuss things like Death Eater attacks and the Cain murders.

Finally he got fed up and said, "Look, can we talk about something else?"

Ron blinked and Hermione frowned. James flushed and felt the need to explain himself. He opened his mouth to speak but Hermione interrupted.

"Sorry," she said. "I forgot. I mean, it's never been a problem before but recently … things've changed, haven't they? Sorry," she said again.

James didn't know what to say to he just shrugged and said, "That's all right."

The rest of lunch was spent talking about Quidditch and bagging on Snape. This led to bagging on Slughorn, which led to a discussion about somebody that Ron and Hermione called "Prince" as they exited the Great Hall.

Apparently, Harry was following the notes out of a students' old textbook that knew a lot more about Potions than the rest of them.

Ron and Hermione were still arguing as they passed Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister as James recalled, and one of her friends. One of them, a girl with dark brown hair and rather pretty, looked at James with an expression that read distinctly of pain and anger.

Ron and Hermione waved at them in a passing greeting. James looked away from the dark haired girl and kept walking, hoping that Harry didn't know her as well as it felt like he did.

"What?" Hermione snapped at James. "Liz and you aren't talking anymore?"

"Lay off, Hermione," Ron said. "The boy just got rejected."

"It's more than that," Hermione insisted. "But neither you nor Liz is talking about it. What happened?"

James shrugged as they reached the classroom. _Hell if I know_, James thought as he opened the door.

* * *

Harry crossed the grounds to the castle with Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew, feeling a little better now that he had only one last class to survive. After that, he had to book the Quidditch field for practice, finish his, or rather, James' essay, and then help the Marauders with the preparations for the next full moon. Harry could tell that the moon was nearing because Remus was looking awfully worn and tired.

Harry, Sirius, and Pettigrew waved good-bye to Remus as he left for the hospital wing.

"You feel better now," Sirius said with an exaggerated wink.

Remus rolled his eyes, but grinned. "See you later. I don't suppose I can trust you to take notes for me in King's class?"

"As usual, Remus," Harry said returning the grin, "no, not really." Harry was pretty sure that his father never would have bothered taking notes in class.

Remus sighed in mock sadness and headed off. Harry and the rest started down the corridor in the opposite direction.

They entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, followed closely by Severus Snape. Harry couldn't help smiling to himself; he wouldn't have to call Snape "sir" anymore – he could even call him Snivellus if he wanted. Harry concealed his grin behind a book as Professor King entered the classroom.

Harry found the class refreshing, as he had spent the last seven months being taught by Snape. Even though the git was in the class, Harry found it quite easy to ignore him and work in peace – a short interlude that ended when the bell rang.

Outside of the classroom, Harry paused to put his book back into his bag. Sirius waited impatiently, tapping his foot and looking around.

"What?" Harry said irritably at the rush. He looked around as well and saw Snape. Then he looked at Sirius and saw the eager look on his face. Realizing the connection, Harry almost groaned out loud.

"Time for some fun," Sirius said cheerily, and before Harry could stop him, he called out, "Hey, Snivellus!"

Snape stopped cold in his tracks. Harry sighed and tried to think of something, but to no avail. All he could do was reach for his wand. If Sirius chose to pick a fight, Harry would have no choice but to join in. He cringed slightly when he remembered some of the things he had seen in Snape's mind, and in the Pensieve.

"Potter!"

Harry looked around. There was his mother, who was glaring at them all through narrowed eyes.

"Yes?" Harry answered her, sounding tired.

"What are you doing?" she said. All of them, including Snape, turned to look at her. Peter's expression was attempting one of innocence, Sirius a look of ease, and Snape's expression took the form of loathing.

"Nothing," Harry answered.

"Yet," she corrected him. "In any case," she continued, "_you_ won't be doing anything mischievous for a bit. Professor Dumbledore wants you." She shoved a piece of parchment into Harry's hand.

"What'd you do, James?" Sirius said, snatching the piece of parchment. "And why didn't you include me?"

Harry snatched the paper back, taking Sirius by surprise. Without apologizing, Harry hitched his bag up a little higher and said he had to go. After seeing the stunned, and slightly hurt looks on Sirius' face he added a friendly, "See you!" before running off down the corridor.

Once Harry had turned the corner he opened the note and in those familiar curvy letters he read that Dumbledore had apparently made a breakthrough.

* * *

To avoid being asked more awkward, or rather unanswerable, questions, James decided to take the time in Binn's (who was, to James' great surprise, now a ghost) class to catch up on his sleep, with the secret hope that he could wake up in the next hour or so to find out that this had all been a dream.

About halfway through the class, a messenger was sent into the classroom to get Harry Potter. Of course, James Potter was still asleep and he ignored the many proddings he received in an effort to wake him when he would like nothing better than to reenter the dream he had been having (Lily was flying with him on his broomstick). Eventually, he sat up and gave such a loud, "What!" that Binn's himself looked away from his beloved chalkboard. Next thing James knew he had a summons from Dumbledore, was packing his stuff, and heading out into the corridor.

He sleepily navigated through the halls and groggily delivered the password to the office gargoyle ("Sleep much?" it asked). Still yawning, he found himself in Dumbledore's office.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, standing up from behind his desk, coming forward to greet James. "Well Mr. Potter, it seems I may be able to find out the reason why you are here."

That certainly woke James up.

* * *

Flushed and out of breath, Harry reached Dumbledore's office.

"Gibble Gobbles," he said urgently to the gargoyle.

"Run much?" the gargoyle asked Harry as it leapt aside.

Ignoring it, Harry entered the Headmaster's office with great enthusiasm.

It looked very much like it still did. The old Headmasters were snoozing, or at least appeared to be sleeping, in their portraits, the silver instruments on the spindly tables, Fawkes upon his perch (and beginning to molt a bit), and Dumbledore's presence itself was familiar and comfortable. But home for Harry was still decades away.

"You sent for me, Professor?" Harry said presently, trying not to sound too impatient.

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Have a seat," he said, conjuring a chair in front of his desk for Harry.

Once Harry sat down, Dumbledore began his explanation. "I have given a great deal of thought to your current situation, Harry, and as unusual and unique it must be, I could not imagine that James' own situation, your father's predicament, could not be less so."

"My father?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore responded, nodding. "James Potter."

"What about him, though?" Harry asked. He was slightly disappointed; he had thought that Dumbledore had found a way for him to get back into his own body.

"Well," Dumbledore said patiently, "seeing as how you are occupying his body, one has to wonder … " Dumbledore paused. "One has to wonder where _he_ went."

"Ah," was all Harry could say. He hadn't given any thought to that.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, moving to one of the spindly tables and picking up a silver instrument. "I tried something, and I'm sure it worked," he said, putting the instrument down on the desk. "However, it does not make sense to me. Perhaps, though, it will make some sense to you."

"Begging your pardon, sir," Harry said, "but if you can't figure it out, how can I?"

"You may know more about yourself, or about your father, than I do Harry," Dumbledore said. "It's that simple. But here, let's try it first, see if anything jumps out at you … " the Headmaster waved his wand at the strange object.

Harry had seen something similar to this last school year, at Christmas. The instrument that Dumbledore had used then projected the images of snakes with smoke. Then, he had known what those snakes meant. But Harry was sure that he did not know what the snake in this smoke projection meant; as it had last Christmas, Harry was now sure that the snake was symbolic of him.

The smoke snake looked peaceful for a while, twisting lazily in midair, before suddenly a new smoke figure appeared and formed a cloud over the snake … and suddenly a thunderbolt erupted from the cloud and the image went hazy and started spinning, forming a miniature tornado over Dumbledore's desk.

"It continues," Dumbledore said. "Keep watching."

The smoke tornado was slowing and a new figure appeared; a stag. The tornado still had not stopped, and it was revolving both the snake and the stag, then quite suddenly, both animals blanched, darkened, and slowly regained their natural smokey texture.

Then the smoke cleared.

"Well?" Dumbledore asked, after a time. "Do you know what it means?"

Harry swallowed. "What it means is that while I'm in my dad's body … he's in mine."

Dumbledore gazed at Harry for a moment with those piercing eyes. Then he cleared his throat.

"And the mystery deepens," he said. "Where we expected to find answers, we only meet another question."

"And what question is that, Professor?" Harry said.

"The question, dear boy," Dumbledore said, "is why?"

Silence.

"Bloody hell," Harry sighed.

* * *

"Well Mr. Potter, it seems I may be able to find out the reason why you are here."

"I'm all ears, Professor," James said eagerly.

"You must be aware of the danger, though, James," Dumbledore said gravely, "of me giving you information of the future."

James nodded.

"However, and exception in this case must be made," Dumbledore said. "I have to put the future in danger, to save the past and ensure that the present will be preserved."

James blinked.

"About ten years into your future, when you and your wife are about twenty-five years old, circumstances led up to an occasion where I found myself having to ask the both of you this question … " Dumbledore hesitated, still torn about having to relay this information to a sixteen-year-old James Potter. "I asked you how many times you had faced Voldemort and lived."

James' eyes widened. Dumbledore continued.

"I already knew your wife had reached the magic number three, but as far as I knew, you had only met Voldemort twice when I asked you that question. None other but two times in the past could I ever remember you facing that danger. You however, could remember three.

"I then asked you how you could remember something I could not, and you answered that I could recall the past better than most, but you could remember the future. I never had the opportunity to ask you to elaborate, but I assume this is what you were speaking of."

Silence filled the office.

James gulped. "So what you're saying is," he said slowly, hardly daring to believe that he was about to utter this sentence, "is that in order to get back to my time, in my body, the task I have to complete … I have to face V-Vol-Voldemort … and win?"

Dumbledore looked at James with those piercing eyes and said grimly, "Precisely."

Silence.

"Bloody hell," James said.

* * *

_Author's Note_: So how'd you like it everyone? Review please! 


	7. The Undertaking

_Author's Note: _There are not really any clues in any of the books from which one may deduce what age Lily and James were when Harry was born, but if they got together when they were what – seventeen? – so I figured 8 years should be plenty of time to get married/start a family with one another, and that's including some leeway for breakups/separation/career starting. Agree? Well, in any case, it's my fanfiction, and it's slightly AU, so I can do what I want, and I'm making them 25 when they had Harry.

Speaking of this being slightly "alternate universe"-y, sometimes Harry might seem a little out of character – sounding smarter/wiser than he really is. I've been having a lot of trouble making his dialogue stick to character (that's why it took me so long to update) and it still failed. But it serves the plot so I'm just going to have to keep it that way. All right, enjoy! _  
_

* * *

**Life Swap **

* * *

_Chapter Seven_  
_The Undertaking  
_

* * *

_  
So my dad is in my body_, Harry thought, _and a quarter of a century into the future._

If Harry believed that he could, he would have yelled in horror long ago. It seemed at the moment that his vocal chords were constricted to the point of muteness on his behalf. Harry cringed at the thought of his father, mingling with his peers (particularly Ginny and Liz). _It was a good thing that neither of them are interested_, he thought bitterly with images of Dean Thomas and the odious Christian Clark hovering before his eyes.

Harry managed to smile at thought of how James Potter might deal with Professor Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy in his stead.

But Harry's father in his place … not to be narcissistic, conceited, or anything of the like, but Harry Potter's shoes were hard to fill. James would probably have a tough time dealing with the gawking students. Harry might be used to it, but it was six years since he was first exposed to all that attention, and he remembered quite well that it had not been easy to adjust to. And what of the great Harry Potter's reputation? What if James Potter got a hold of a Harry Potter biography, in which all sorts of information about the Potters' future fate would be revealed? Worse yet – what if James Potter got a hold of those revolting Rita Skeeter articles? Harry groaned inwardly at all the possible repercussions his father's presence might do to the past, when he got back. If he got back.

If.

_Oh god, _Harry thought. _What if neither of us gets back?_

* * *

"With all due respect Professor," James said, his voice quavering, "how exactly am I to pull that off? I'm only sixteen for Christ's sake!"

"You'll find a way," Dumbledore said. He did not sound quite as reassuring as he had meant to.

James shook his head. "I don't know if I can, professor." 

"You must."

"No pressure then," James muttered. "What happens if I don't pull it off? I know you remember me coming back … but what happens if I screw it all up and die?"

"You won't."

"But what if?"

Dumbledore heaved a sigh. For the first time, James became astutely aware of the effect time had had on Dumbledore. "A man's character decides his destiny, for the choices he makes comes from the person he is. Trust in who you are, Mr. Potter, and have faith that you will make the right choices. The only if that presents itself to us at the moment, James, is _if_ you face the challenge presented to you. It is not _if_ you are ready, or even _if_ you are capable. It is whether or not you will. Will you, James?"

James didn't answer. Dumbledore didn't seem to expect him to.

* * *

"Harry?" Dumbledore was saying. "Are you all right?"

Harry jerked himself out of his reverie. "Yes, Professor," he said, slightly higher pitched than usual. "Ahem, I mean uh, yeah, I'm fine Professor."

Dumbledore frowned at him for a moment longer before saying, "No you're not, but I think we've discussed this enough for one day. We'll speak again, when either you or I make a breakthrough in this mystery. This must have happened for a reason, Harry. I want you to think long and hard, using your knowledge of the future and what _has happened_, to figure out why you have been placed so specifically in the past. Do you understand?"

"Sure, Professor," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded and said, "Now I think it would be best to resume your father's activities."

"Yes Professor," Harry said stumbling toward the door.

Out in the corridors, taking his time to Gryffindor tower, Harry contemplated his predicament. He spent a long time on all the superficial stuff, thinking about how he might screw up the past, and how his dad might be screwing up his future, and then he was hit with a sudden, much more serious thought: _If Voldemort kills me in the past, does that mean he wins?_

Again, Harry felt the pangs of bitterness as the words of the prophecy echoed in his head. He hated having his destiny so decided. Were prophecies ever wrong?

_There would be no need for ifs if only I knew the future_, Harry thought. _How ironic._

Harry had been walking with his head down, absorbed in his worries. With his eyes on the ground, watching his feet move forward closer and closer to a future that was a guaranteed disaster, he did not react in time to the girl who was careening around the corner into the corridor.

Once again, books and papers flew everywhere. Lily Potter was certainly a very busy scholar.

"You again!" she said angrily, hurriedly gathering her things.

Harry immediately bent down to help. "Hey Mu- - I mean, hi Lily." It was strange that he saw this sixteen-year-old girl as his mother, but then again, he didn't want to think of her as anything else. Revolting. "You in a hurry?" he asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Lily said curtly. "Are you blind?"

"Not anymore," Harry mumbled. One good thing about being his father was that he didn't have to worry about having glasses.

Lily wasn't paying attention though. She grabbed a stack of parchment out of Harry's outstretched hand.

Unsure of what to say, Harry opened his mouth and hoped whatever came out wasn't the sort of stuff he'd expect from the other end. "Erm … I'm just bumping into you everywhere, aren't I?" Thus, his hopes were disappointed.

"Sufficiently lame, Potter," Lily said, gathering up the last of her things and stuffing them into her bag. "Why don't you try looking where you're going next time? Then we can avoid this whole scene from ever happening again, which would make me very, very happy."

"Well I could try that," Harry said, "but … why don't you try slowing down a bit? You know … stop and smell the roses. Enjoy a tapestry or something. Why were you in such a hurry?"

"I am _still_ in a hurry," Lily said. "Your lessons might be over already, but my schedule is probably more occupied than yours."

"Trying to do everything?" Harry asked, as he picked up a last bit of stray paper.

"Not just trying, Potter, doing."

"Pace yourself, Evans, there aren't enough hours in a day."

"Tell me about it," Lily said, beginning to walk. "And I certainly have better things to do with my time than stick around talking to you. I have big things in store for me. Don't worry, there's something in the future for you. Probably something akin to sweeping up rubbish in the Chudley Cannon stadium. You want a career in Quidditch – that vision ought to make you happy."

"Ouch," Harry said. "But don't worry about me. I'm going to be just fine."

"And how can you be so certain?" Lily asked, a little disgruntled, with a subtle hint in her tone of … envy.

Harry just laughed. "Because I've seen the future. Whatever I end up doing I'll make a small fortune so I'm not really worried."

"Oh that's easy for you to say," Lily said. "You've already got a trust fund, and thanks to your parents, a great reputation in the Wizarding Community. You've got everything handed to you. Although your downfall might just be that you're a prat about it."

Harry snorted. "Easy? No one's life is easy. And trust me, you've got nothing to worry about when it comes to your future."

"Who said I was worried?"

"You just did," Harry said.

"Oh don't pretend to know everything. You don't know anything about me."

"I know enough to be sure that whatever you pick, you'll be great at it. But do us all a favor, because we're all curious to know what the great Lily Evans has in store for her, pick _something_. Don't just try everything. You'll have more time if you can just try one thing at once, you know?"

"Easier said than done," Lily said. But her voice didn't bite as much as it had before. "I've thought about that … just picking one thing and running with it. But what if, ten years from now, I realize that I made the wrong choice?"

"Trust me," Harry said, "ten years from now, you're going to be right where you're supposed to be." _Fleeing for your life on account of me,_ Harry added in his head.

"You okay Potter?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You just looked … upset is all. Probably reading too much into … I do that."

"Don't doubt it," Harry said. "Well … erm … have fun during lessons I suppose."

"Yeah," Lily said. "Well … see you around." She turned.

"Wait! You forgot this." Harry held out a copy of the Daily Prophet she had dropped. As Harry looked at it, he saw that an article had been highlighted. "What's this?" he asked.

"Oh, that," Lily said, taking it from him. "I'm doing my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay on the Correli murder."

"What?"

"Yeah – don't you know?" Lily looked confused. "Oh, that's right. You were out for the whole weekend weren't you? Sunday, it was all over school that some famous Seer had been murdered in London – Marcillinus Correlli."

"Why was he murdered?"

"He was visiting from Italy and it's alleged that he had information for the Ministry."

"Sounds big," Harry said.

"Yeah. Bigger than Quidditch, even," Lily said, then she added, "A lot of people were disappointed when you knocked out. Worried too, when you didn't wake up when Madam Pomfrey said you would. But not me," she added hastily. "I knew no bludger could ever damage that big head of yours."

"Speaking of Quidditch," Sirius popped around the corner. "We humble Gryffindors need our Quidditch captain down at the field. You didn't forget about booking practice did you, James?"

"Yeah, just a sec – " Harry turned around to say goodbye to his mother, but she had already gone. Harry sighed. _It's not right that my mother hates me. Shouldn't a mother's love prevail over time continuums and other rubbish?_

"James?" Sirius said again. "James?"

"Yeah?"

Looking unsure, Sirius asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. What would make you think otherwise?"

Sirius looked as though he had plenty to say in answer to that question. Harry waited for Sirius to speak with his fingers crossed beneath his robes. Fortunately, Sirius just shrugged and said, "Well I'm going to find some trouble. See you later!" His grin had returned and Harry smiled at him as he turned in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons.

"Don't get caught!" Harry called after him.

On his way down, Harry looked out of the fourth floor corridor's open window. Leaning out, he felt the cold February air brush his hair back. He breathed it in and could smell the beginning of spring. It was hardly detectable, but it was there.

"Things have got to get better … " Harry said out loud. "They've got to … oh what am I saying? Everything's going to go wrong. I can pretend but it's not going to work. This is going to be a disaster."

Unbeknownst to Harry, Remus Lupin was just around the corner and had heard every word. But everyone had their secrets, and Remus was very good at looking the other way, but even then he couldn't help but wonder just what was wrong with his friend.

* * *

James was pacing up and down the seventh floor corridor toward Gryffindor Tower thinking about what Dumbledore had said. He couldn't ask himself if he could do it or not. That wasn't important – and he had to keep telling himself that that wasn't important. It was sort of hard to do considering the new Grindelwald was after him. And considering that Voldemort had managed to stay out of prison the past quarter of a century, James was pretty sure that having that particular wizard wanting to kill him wasn't a good thing.

James decided that he would certainly _try_ to do what he was supposed to – that is, foil whatever plot had set up against Harry, and at the very least, keep Harry's body intact while he, James, was in it. What if Harry's body got hit with some curse or whatever? Maybe James _would_ survive as Dumbledore told him he would, since he did get back into his body eventually. James knew that it is impossible to change the past once you know for sure that something _happened_. But even if James' soul got through the ordeal all right, maybe Harry's _body_ would get destroyed or something. James couldn't have that on his head. He'd be responsible for his son's death.

_But how am I going to pull this off?_ He thought. Just as the thought began to process, someone grabbed James into a broom closet.

"Oi! Get off!" James cried, struggling to break free of his captor's grip.

"Harry, this is ridiculous!" the captor replied, keeping hold of her escaping prey. "You have to talk to me sometime! It's your own fault that I had to resort to such desperate measures."

"Who are you? Let go of me!" James yelled, still struggling.

"Will you calm down?" the girl asked, finally letting up. She flipped a switch and the lights came on. James blinked against the brightness of what he had thought to be a broom closet. "It's only me – Liz."

_That helps,_ James thought to himself. Out loud he said, "Where am I?"

The girl called Liz rolled her eyes. "You're in the Room of Requirement. Remember? Seventh floor corridor?"

"Oh. Right." James said, trying his best to be nonchalant. "I just lost my bearings for a bit … which wouldn't have happened if you had just asked to speak with me like a civilized person instead of kidnapping me."

"I've tried that, Harry!" Liz cried in exasperation. "You know I've tried! Since before you ran off and almost got yourself killed! You avoided me before Lestrange nearly murdered you, you tried to prevent me from being there to help you and Ginny, and Hermione, and Ron, when you knew very well that it was my right to be there, and now that you've gotten out of the hospital, you downright ignore me!"

Liz paused, breathing hard after her angry rant.

James didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," ended up escaping from his lips.

"Don't be sorry," Liz said brusquely. "I know you have every reason to be angry with me. Don't be sorry. But don't pretend to be ignorant either." Liz glared at James, but then her look softened, and she looked tired. "You never gave me a chance to explain myself. And when you got yourself into St. Mungo's … despite what you may think now, Harry, I _do_ care about you, and I care what happens to you. I was worried about you. I wanted to talk to you, but you pushed me away, like we never knew one another. Like we were never friends."

James shifted uncomfortably. He thought bitterly to himself that this wasn't his problem, or his business. Harry should be hearing this.

"Now I know I may sound like a hypocrite," Liz said, "but what I did, I believed, and still do believe, that I did it for the best."

James didn't answer. He didn't know how to.

Liz tried again, "Believe me, Harry, I had to push you away. Look what happened to my home and my parents! Look what happened to innocent people who knew nothing about my parents' work! I don't want death to be the Cain legacy, Harry, and the more you know, the more anyone knows the more danger they're in."

James opened his mouth to speak (to say what, he didn't know).

Fortunately, Liz spoke for him. "I know you only want to help, but I'm going to have to ask you again, like I did in November and again at Christmas, _trust me._ I know what I'm doing. You needn't have gone that night. You needn't have followed me. It was my fight. But you had to pick one yourself, didn't you? And for that, you nearly got killed. How do you think I felt, Harry, when I found out what you had done?"

Her eyes searched James' face with such grief and concern that James felt guilty and hung his head. And although he had done nothing, he mumbled something of an apology to this strange brunette.

After a moment of silence, Liz spoke again. "It's all right. I know you went with the best of intentions." After a pause, she added, "It was nice to see that you still cared. But … try caring a little less."

James was confused. "Why?"

Liz turned to the door, saying, "Because I don't want you to get hurt. And … " she turned back to James, "because I don't want to get hurt either."

When she had gone, it occurred to James to wonder about her last words.

* * *

_What did Dumbledore say? This must have happened for a reason. If that's true … what am I doing here?_ Harry picked at his dinner, trying to concentrate, but finding it exceedingly difficult because the thought that he might be stuck in the past, as his father, no less, for the rest of his days kept springing up.

"James?" Sirius said, waving a hand in front of Harry's face. "Helloooo?"

"What?" Harry said wearily.

"Are you quite all right?"

"Yeah," Harry said, irritably. "I wish you'd stop asking me that."

"Well I figured that if you're hungry, which you always are, and you're not eating, something must be wrong," Sirius said.

"I was just thinking … "

Peter piped up. "Well, if you don't want your potatoes, I'll take them."

Harry held his plate out for Pettigrew.

"Thinking about what, pray tell, Prongs?" Sirius asked. "Not the lovely Lily Evans. Mate, stop pining. It's not attractive."

Harry winced. "Well, I'm off to the common room. Don't really feel like eating."

"Well I'm abashed," Sirius said. "Moony, are you as stunned as I?" he asked, elbowing Lupin.

Staying intent on sawing through his steak, Lupin said, "Very stunned," in an indifferent and off-hand voice.

Harry just shrugged and walked away, and in the hall, and on the way to the dormitory he had time to think. Dumbledore had said that James and Harry must have switched place for a reason. Harry thought about it, and again wondered whether a fight with Voldemort in the past would lead to Harry's death. For certainly Harry couldn't kill Voldemort in the past – that would change the whole future and the reason Harry ended up in the past in the first place. Could Harry avoid Voldemort in the past? No one had ever mentioned James Potter being attacked by Voldemort … as a boy, anyhow. Harry figured as James went on to bigger and better things from school, he would become a target for Voldemort. He couldn't be a target now could he?

What about James Potter? Why had he been sent to the future? Was he even there to serve a purpose? He must be. Perhaps … perhaps it had another thing to do with the prophecy. If Harry had been killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, that wouldn't fit. Did all prophecies come true? This question had been bothering Harry – that his future had already been decided. Maybe it could still be changed… but then why else, and how else could he have switched places with his father over _time_ itself? Maybe Lestrange did the spell wrong? Harry had managed to throw her off her game, at the very least.

And if James was in the future, in Harry's body … well, Harry had no doubt that there was certainly something up in the future that was worrying Harry. What Malfoy was up to, for one thing. There was also what Dumbledore was trying to investigate. Not to mention the Cain murders.

The Cain murders. That was what Harry had been trying to do something about when he had his blast to the past. That must be why James was sent to the future – to finish what Harry had started.

So what did Harry have to do in the past?

Harry arrived at the dormitory and found that the other three had already arrived.

"Where've you been?" Sirius demanded.

"We were getting worried," Remus said, with a frown.

"We've been waiting for ages," Peter added.

"Sorry," Harry apologized. "I just lost track of time."

"Thinking again?" Sirius said. "Been doing an awful lot of that lately. Too much."

"What's up?" Remus asked.

"Oh nothing, nothing," Harry tried to dismiss their concern but they would have none of that.

"No, it's not nothing," Remus said. "Something's been bothering you. What is it?"

"Well," Harry hesitated, trying to think of something on the spot. "It's just that … you know … my cousin, er second cousin … bit of family drama … erm …"

The three answered him with dubious looks.

Harry gave up and said, "Look, really it's nothing. I shouldn't even be worrying about it." He gave them a hopefully convincing grin. "Honestly, it's really okay."

Thankfully, the Marauders dropped the issue, but Harry could tell they hadn't forgotten it. Peter was scratching his head uncertainly, Sirius hesitated, eyebrows raised, before continuing to juggle a couple of gobstones, and Remus' frown creased a bit more, before he went back to writing his essay, and even then, couldn't help glancing at Harry every once in a while with worried eyes.

Harry decided to ignore everything the best he could and picked up a book and began reading. When they all went to bed, Harry hoped he had put up a convincing cheerful front that evening in the common room. As he shut the curtains of his four poster bed, he began worrying once more. He couldn't do this all by himself. He had Dumbledore … but in this case, Dumbledore was almost as helpless as Harry was himself. There wasn't anybody who had all the answers this time. And there was no one among his father's friends he could turn to for help. Not with this. It was too impossible. It was too dangerous, even, to tell anyone who he really was. He felt sorry for his sixteen-year-old father, who was in the same boat.

Then, Harry realized that James didn't have to be helpless.

* * *

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"What? Oh, yeah," James answered, looking up from the copy of the Daily Prophet he had disregarded earlier that day. "I'm fine. I wish people would stop asking me that."

"Well you looked preoccupied," Ron said.

"I'm just reading this article," James said reluctantly. He frowned with concentration at the last few lines.

"There appear to be no more new leads as to why Richard and Katherine Cain were murdered this past summer. We can only hope that whatever it was that they were protecting, an object allegedly of potential power, which the Ministry of Magic declines knowledge of, is still safe. Perhaps then, their sacrifices will not have been for nothing."

The crease dimpling James' forehead deepened in thought. The article was a follow-up to an article that had appeared in the Saturday edition. James thought about what Dumbledore had said … Harry had been involved in a fight at the Ministry Friday night – which meant Saturday's article was most likely covering the event that had brought Harry, or rather James, to St. Mungo's. James wished he could see that article, but he would have to make due with this one. Richard and Katherine Cain. James drew connections between what happened on Friday night to them, and from them, to Elizabeth Cain. Who was she? Sighing, James put down the newspaper.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk," James said. "I need to clear my head."

"Liz said she talked to you today," Hermione said.

"Yeah," James said, standing up.

"I suppose that really does mean you've got a lot to think about," Hermione said. "Anything new?"

James did some quick-thinking. "No," he concluded, to himself, and out loud in answer to Hermione's question. "Nothing new to think about. She just … chided me for my recent behavior and told me to stay out of her business in the future."

"So nothing new, then?" Ron asked. James shook his head. Ron shrugged and Hermione went back to her work. "See you at dinner!" they called as James walked away.

James stepped down from the portrait hole and headed down to the entrance hall with half a mind to go to the Quidditch field. He kept thinking about what Dumbledore had said earlier, about what he might have to do. James stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists. No, he thought, No more mights and no more maybes. I will do this. I've got to.. Dumbledore was right. James had to stop asking himself whether or not he was capable. He had to be sure that he was even going to try. And he was sure, now. Absolutely certain.

James rerouted his course from the Quidditch field to the Headmaster's office and arrived just as Dumbledore was coming out. The Headmaster surveyed James determined manner and looked at him with inquiring eyes.

James faced Dumbledore with a resolute expression on his face and said, in a voice that was devoid of any tremor, "What do I have to do?"

* * *

Harry got up as quietly as he could and went back down to the common room, which was now empty, with some parchment and a quill. He would write a letter. It was the only way he could think of to send a message to the future, and the most likely to succeed.

He didn't quite know how to begin. He tried "Dear James" but that seemed too strange, because James was his father. "Dear Dad" definitely didn't work – James was only sixteen, and it would be weird for him and Harry. "Dear Replacement" didn't fit any better. The final version of Harry's letter to James began at 12:30 am with "To James Potter." He had much to tell, and it was difficult to find the words. It was many hours before he was able to sign it with his own name.

* * *

**Author's Note**: And to think. This chapter was originally going to be _much _longer. As it is, it's already 12 pages in Microsoft Word, so I figured it was about time to start a new chapter with the next four pages. Sorry it took me so long to finish this one. I'd had it planned out for ages, but it's so fiddly to write dialogue, for me anyway. Because I already know what happens. I know the big picture. It's hard to break it down into puzzle pieces, but if I don't, none of you will have fun. In any case, I hope you _did_ have fun and don't forget to review, with criticism or compliments. Questions too. I won't answer them, but I'll tell you whether or not you're asking the right ones 


End file.
